Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.

lach. Your daughter's chastity-there it begins,He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams,

And she alone were cold: Whereat, I, wretch!
Made fcruple of his praise; and wager'd with him
Pieces of gold, 'gainst this which then he wore
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain

In fuit the place of his bed, and win this ring
By hers and mine adultery: he, true knight,
No leffer of her honour confident

Than I did truly find her, ftakes this ring;
And would fo, had it been a carbuncle

Of Phoebus' wheel; and might fo fafely, had it
Been all the worth of his car. Away to Britain
Poft I in this defign: Well may you, fir,

Remember me at court, where I was taught
Of

your chafte daughter the wide difference 'Twixt amorous and villainous. Being thus quench'd Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain. 'Gan in your duller Britain operate Moft vilely; for my vantage, excellent; And, to be brief, my practice fo prevail'd, That I return'd with fimular proof enough To make the noble Leonatus mad,

By wounding his belief in her renown
With tokens thus, and thus; averring notes
Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her bracelet,
(0, cunning, how I got it!) nay, fome marks
Of secret on her perfon, that he could not
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd,

In fuit]-By courtship.

a carbuncle, &c.]-ANTONY AND CLEOPATRA, A& I. S. 8. Am.

I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon,-
Methinks, I fee him now,-

Poft. Ay, fo thou do'ft,

[Coming forward.

Italian fiend!-Ah me, most credulous fool,
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing

That's due to all the villains paft, in being,

To come!-O, give me cord, or knife, or poison,
Some upright 'jufticer! Thou, king, send out
For torturers ingenious: it is I

That all the abhorred things o' the earth amend,
By being worse than they. I am Pofthumus,
That kill'd thy daughter :-villain-like, I lie;
That caus'd a leffer villain than myself,

A facrilegious thief, to do't:-the temple
Of virtue was fhe; yea, and fhe herself.

S

Spit, and throw ftones, caft mire upon me, set

The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain

Be call'd, Pofthumus Leonatus; and

Be villainy less than 'twas!-O Imogen!

My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen,
Imogen, Imogen!

Imo. Peace, my lord; hear, hear

Poft. Shall's have a play of this? Thou fcornful page,

There lie thy part.

Pif. O, gentlemen, help

[Striking her, he falls.

Mine, and your mistress-O, my lord Pofthumus!

You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now:-Help, help!

Mine honour'd lady!

Cym. Does the world go round?

Poft. How come thefe ftaggers on me?

Pif. Wake, my mistress!

Cym. If this be fo, the gods do mean to ftrike me

To death with mortal joy.

jufticer!]-difpenfer of justice.

• She herself.]-virtue herself.

thefe ftaggers]-this delirium, wild perturbation.

Pif. How fares my mistress?,

Imo. O, get thee from my fight;

Thou gav'ft me poifon : dangerous fellow, hence!

Breathe not where princes are.

Cym. The tune of Imogen!

Pif. Lady, the gods throw ftones of fulphur on me, if That box I gave you was not thought by me

A precious thing; I had it from the queen.
Cym. New matter still?

Imo. It poifon'd me.

Cor. O gods!

I left out one thing which the queen confefs'd,
Which must approve thee honeft: If Pifanio
Have, faid fhe, given his mistress that confection
Which I gave him for cordial, fhe is ferv'd
As I would ferve a rat.

Cym. What's this, Cornelius?

Cor. The queen, fir, very oft importun❜d me
To temper poifons for her; ftill pretending
The fatisfaction of her knowledge, only
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs,
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpose
Was of more danger, did compound for her
A certain ftuff, which, being ta'en, would cease
The prefent power of life; but, in short time,
All offices of nature should again

Do their due functions.-Have you ta'en of it?
Imo. Moft like I did, for I was dead.

Bel. My boys,

There was our error.

Guid. This is fure Fidele.

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady from you?

W

Think, that you are upon a rock; and now

Throw me again.

[Rufbing into his arms.

Poft. Hang there like fruit, my foul, 'Till the tree die!

Cym. How now, my flesh, my child?

What, mak'st thou me a dullard in this act?

Wilt thou not speak to me?

Imo. Your bleffing, fir.

[Kneeling.

Bel. Though you did love this youth, I blame you not;

You had a motive for't.

Cym, My tears, that fall,

[To Guiderius and Arviragus.

Prove holy water on thee! Imogen,

Thy mother's dead.

Imo. I am forry for❜t, my lord.

Cym. O, fhe was naught; and long of her it was, That we meet here fo ftrangely: But her fon

Is gone, we know not how, nor where.

Pif. My lord,

Now fear is from me, I'll speak troth. Lord Cloten,

Upon my lady's miffing, came to me

With his fword drawn; foam'd at the mouth, and fwore,

If I discover'd not which way she was gone,

It was my instant death: By accident,

I had a feigned letter of my master's
Then in my pocket; which directed him
To feek her on the mountains near to Milford;
Where, in a frenzy, in my master's garments,
Which he inforc'd from me, away he posts
With unchafte purpose, and with oath to violate

w and now throw me again, &c.]-If you doubt my fidelity, repeat your violence, and may my fecond fall prove fatal.

* Hang there]-about my neck, till the frame, that now fupports you, fhall decay.

a dullard]—a perfon ftupidly unconcerned, a dolt.

My

Cym. Marry, the gods forefend!

I would not thy good deeds fhould from my lips
Pluck a hard fentence: pr'ythee, valiant youth,
Deny't again.

Guid. I have spoke it, and I did it.

Cym. He was a prince.

Guid. A moft incivil one: The wrongs he did me
Were nothing prince-like; for he did provoke me
With language that would make me fpurn the fea,
If it could fo roar to me: I cut off's head;

And am right glad, he is not standing here
To tell this tale of mine.

Cym. I am forry for thee:

By thine own tongue thou art condemn'd, and must
Endure our law: Thou art dead.

Imo. That headless man

thought had been my lord.

Cym. Bind the offender,

And take him from our prefence.

Bel. Stay, fir king:

This man is better than the man he flew,
As well descended as thyself; and hath
More of thee merited, than a band of Clotens
'Had ever fcar for.Let his arms alone;

They were not born for bondage.

Cym. Why, old foldier,

[To the guard.

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art unpaid for,

Had ever fear for.]-for meriting, or attempting to merit. VOL. III.

S

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